Broken Wings
by hauntedlove
Summary: PostEscape. Michael’s life hangs by a thread after a brutal attack. Can Sara find him before it’s too late?
1. Chapter 1

Michael's life hangs by a thread after a brutal attack

_Michael's life hangs by a thread after a brutal attack. Can Sara find him before it's too late?_

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Prison Break. This was written purely for enjoyment purposes.

Broken Wings

Chapter 1

Michael gazed out the window into the passing town of Gila, New Mexico. He rested his right arm on the door of the passenger seat, as his eyes scanned the various stores and street signs in the late evening light. Face lined with the sadness, yet hope for making it across the border in the next day, he couldn't help but feel the immense guilt of having involved so many that weren't supposed to be. Most of which he was sorry for was Sara. She would never forgive him after what he'd caused her to go through and he knew that she had every right to turn her back on him and walk away.

Noticing his face brooding with concentrated thought, Sara let her eyes drift from the road ahead and fall upon the face of Michael Scofield. Entranced in his own tortured thoughts, he didn't see her turn to look in his direction. Shifting to look at her watch, she read the hands point to 8:00. They'd made it without incident to their destination, and for that she was grateful.

There was a silence in the air that refused to lift. She was lost and confused, resorting to the one comfort she knew in her heart would be there for her, yet truly knew little about. He was pained with the knowledge of what his very actions had produced and was facing the fact that he had destroyed every aspect of the life of the one he loved more than anything. Lost souls in an angry world, neither could look at the other without a longing to comfort them from the shattered walls of their broken world. With this however, came a sense of distance that could only result from the still raw feelings that lingered from previous events that now shaped the exterior of their fragile relationship.

"Sara," spoke Michael, eyes fixed on the set of unfolded paper cranes he'd been reading over as they drove. Those simple fixtures had brought them back together after a series of obstacles generated from the escape.

"Yeah," replied Sara, momentarily turning to capture a glimpse of his solemn eyes fixed to the ground.

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered. "For everything I've caused you to go through. It wasn't supposed to happen this way, and I'm truly sorry that you had to be involved like this." Pausing to focus on Sara's unmoving face watching the road before her, he took a breath. "It means a lot to me that you came. I know it hasn't been easy for you, but know that I'm here and I won't leave again. I promise."

Blinking back the moist threatening to glaze over her green eyes, she continued concentrating on the road before her.

"Just a few more blocks and we're there," said Sara a couple minutes later in a barely audible voice. She pressed her foot to the brakes and the car slowed to a stop at a stop sign.

"We haven't eaten all day," said Michael softly. "There should still be some restaurants open at this hour."

"As much as I would love grab a bite to eat Michael, we should keep a low profile, especially right now. We're spending the night here and it's probably best we don't risk having someone on our tail at this hour."

"Let me go grab us something," said Michael. "We're only a little ways away from the motel anyway. I have my hat and shades, plus with the darkness it's unlikely that I'll be recognized. It's the least I can do."

Knowing in her heart that Michael was an expert at being careful of concealing his identity, she did not doubt his ability to stay low and be invisible. She couldn't help but shake the hollow sensation she felt in her gut at the idea of separating from him though.

With a gentle sigh, she stopped the car. "I can wait here with the car, it'll be safer this way anyway," she said.

Michael fixed his eyes on hers as he gingerly took her hand in his. "I want to bring something for you. It can be like we're really dining out. I'll pick up something good and bring it back as a surprise. Go back to the motel and relax. I'll be fine, I want to do this for you Sara, plus the walk will help take my mind off things."

Entwining her fingers in his, she hesitated and then gently squeezed his hand once before letting go. "Keep your cell on just in case. Please be careful Michael."

With one last gaze toward her, Michael eased open his door and stepped out into the cool, clean air. She turned her eyes back to lay on the road before her as the door closed behind Michael and pushing down on the gas, sped off toward the motel with a grim feeling of doom still declining to let go of her tormented heart.

Michael surveyed the street before him that was engulfed in night's embrace. It was deserted at that end of town, and though Michael was grateful for the lack of wondering eyes he'd have to shield himself from, it still contributed to an eerie atmosphere around the area. He could make out a faint glow of the neon lights of a mini-mart open up ahead, but he was looking for something more. While they were driving in, he'd spotted a small café just a block or two away from where he was then. Remembering it's homely and warm look, he knew it would be a decent place to pick up a good meal to share with Sara, plus being one of the few restaurants in that end of town, it was certain to still be open at that hour. Heading back towards the way they came, Michael walked slowly along the silent, barren sidewalk.

A while later as Michael turned a corner, he wondered what Sara was doing back at the motel. He hoped she wouldn't worry that he'd taken extra time for an extended walk in the peaceful night. A part of him wanted to get back to her and never leave her side, but he knew he needed to give her distance. After all, she realized he was a fugitive and that it was a dangerous game being played with high stakes. The truth was that he wanted nothing more in the world than to be with her, but the chance of her ever rejecting him now was one too big that he was willing to take. He felt that if he got too close, she might repel, especially following the traumatic events of the past few weeks.

Michael finally spotted the tiny café ahead, it lights glowing like a soft candle in the distance. Adjusting his cap to fall over his eyes, he studied his surroundings once again. He'd walked a couple blocks from where Sara had dropped him off and was now further from the motel.

Suddenly becoming eager to return to Sara with the promised meal, he hurried in the direction of the café when he thought he heard the faint sounds of footsteps behind him. Quickening his pace, he casually bent his head to sneak a glimpse behind him. Nothing. Shaking off his suspicions, he rubbed his tired head as he headed to pass by an alley ahead.

Michael never saw the hooded attacker creeping out from the shadows behind him, nor did he hear the sound of a briefcase buckle snap open and a hand reach in to retrieve a rusted dagger. As the attacker swiftly bolted forward, Michael instinctively arched his neck backward to face the impending assailant, only to be met with sharp blow on the side of his forehead. His body crashed to the pavement from the force and he was plunged into darkness.

The attacker observed the unmoving form of his prey now lying unconscious in a fallen heap before him. As Michael bled freely from the wound on the side of his head, his blood stained the pavement and the predator's face twisted into a cruel grin.

Author's Note: And there you have the first chapter! This is my very first fic, so I hope it wasn't too painful! Should I continue? Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Broken Wings

Chapter 2

Michael awoke to a throbbing pain in the side of his head. His whole body felt numb as he tried to gather his thoughts. He attempted to move his arms when in a sudden relapse of memory he remembered walking toward the café before everything went black. His heartbeat increased when he felt coarse rope digging into the raw skin on his wrists and his arms pulled tightly behind him. Letting out a small groan, he slowly opened his eyes, feeling damp blood covering his left eyelid, most likely from the wound on his head. He could taste a filthy rag pulled across his mouth and tied securely at the back of his head. His whole mouth felt dry and his body tired and aching.

Surveying his surroundings as much as he could from his position, he found himself propped up against a wire fence between two old buildings. He guessed that it was close to where he had been attacked from the distinguished, fresh smell of peaceful night air. He spotted his cell phone on the ground a few feet out of reach of his feet. Struggling to free his arms from the rope, he realized they were secured to the fence behind him as well, preventing him from moving from his vulnerable position on the ground. There was an old wooden dumpster directly in front of him, shielding him from what he guessed was the same road he'd been walking down earlier that night. Between him and the dumpster was what looked like the bottom half of a broken metal street sign pole. It stood on a small stand, vertical, with it's sharp end pointing up. Michael guessed it was probably thrown behind there on it's way to the dump.

Twisting his neck to try and get a look at his bindings, he heard footsteps coming from the other side of the dumpster. Michael pressed his back up to fence and his body tensed as he saw the shape of a large man striding towards him. The man looked to be in his early forties and well-built. He was wearing a black suit and carrying a large coil of rope with his as he moved to stand directly in front of Michael and looked down at him.

"There's quite a price on your pretty little head…Michael Scofield," he said in a deep, sinister voice. Michael's eyes widened as he struggled desperately with the rope binding his wrists.

The man smirked as he watched Michael helplessly wrestling with the expertly tied rope. "Nothing to worry about, I'm not going to turn you into the authorities if that's what you think." Michael stopped struggling and unsuccessfully tried to yell out to the man through his gag.

Strangely calm and sporting a smug look, the man in the black suit continued looking down at Michael adding, "Our use for you is much more fun than that." With that the man bent down and grabbed both of Michael's ankles and roughly started to bind them with the thick rope.

Instinctively, Michael kicked out at the man and succeeded in knocking him backwards and off of him. Chest heaving, he then shook the rope off of his legs and bending his knees up, straightened his back against the wall, desperately looking around the alley for a means of freeing himself and quickly at that.

Angered, the man wiped the blood off the side of his jaw where Michael's foot had connected with him and spat, "We're not playing games here Michael. Either you cooperate or things will get rough."

Overloaded with confusion as to the motive of the man's attack, Michael knew one thing for sure. If he let the man tie his legs, he'd be completely at his mercy and unable to yell for help, which would still be useless anyway at that hour of the night. His head was pounding from where he'd been hit earlier and refused to let the man render him defenseless. Preparing to kick out at the man again, he froze when he watched the man's hand reach into his coat and retrieve a small, rusted dagger.

"A little security," he said as Michael watched him with fearful eyes. Before Michael could process his intentions, the man thrust the dagger into Michael's lower stomach. Sneering, he twisted it, forcing Michael to fall forward, letting out pained cry though the gag. The man then let go of the handle of the dagger, leaving it lodged in Michael's body and watched his strained breathing rapidly increase and shivers wrack his body.

Michael had never experienced agony like he was then before in his life. His whole body hurt with each breath he inhaled. He felt like his entire lower body was on fire as he gasped for breath. He couldn't help but fall as far forward as his bindings would allow, forcing the weight of his upper body to strain his aching shoulders.

Blood flowed freely through the open wound in his lower stomach, soaking Michael's previously white shirt a dark red. His vision blurred as the world around his body shook and he felt the life draining out of him. Instantly, his eyes began to feel heavy and his whole body tired. He knew that if he let himself succumb to welcoming darkness that was beckoning him, all would be lost. Fighting to remain conscious, he moaned and face contorted in pain, he tried his best to set his eyes back upon his attacker through his fading vision.

The man readjusted himself so he was about to bend down on the right side of Michael. In a last attempt to protect his already greatly battered body, Michael summoned all the strength that still lingered in his crumbled frame and with a grunt, slammed his back against the fence, bent his knees up, and pushed outward with immense force for an injured man.

Taken off guard by the sheer strength of Michael's last attempt at defending himself, the man was thrust backward and off of his feet. Unable to catch himself, his large shape went barreling into the wooden dumpster behind him before propelling back forward. His right foot tripped on a small stump of pavement, causing his whole body to fall down directly on top of the protruding end of the broken street sign in front of Michael.

Michael's eyes instantly expanded in horrified shock as he watched in what seemed like slow motion. With a gasp, the man's body came to final stop laid out in front of Michael just out of reach of his legs. The old, metal street sign pole was stuck through his chest. Michael couldn't take his eyes off of the man's face as his dead eyes were fixed on Michael's shuddering form. Gasping for breath, Michael choked on the dirty gag restricting air from entering his needy lungs.

Blood seeped from the man's chest, pooling into a puddle and staining the pavement in front of Michael. Michael's lungs felt like they were about to explode as he felt himself starting to hyperventilate at the sight. _So much blood._

Michael's own blood continued to flow through the wound caused by the dagger still lodged in his stomach and he could feel himself weakening from blood loss. Too panic-striken from the fact that he had just killed a human being and was now forced to watch him bleed out, he had flashes of nightmares from his childhood. Still choking on the gag and desperately trying to fill his lungs with the oxygen they so dearly craved, his body was racked with convulses as his eyes continued to stay fixed on the gruesome horror before him.

In shock, Michael's upper body once again began to fall forward, but his eyes never left the dead man's pale facing staring back up at him. All of a sudden between his rasping for air he heard a ringing coming from nearby. Recognizing the ring as that of Sara, his eyes left the tormenting sight in front of him to lay upon the sight of his fallen cell a few away from him. Unable to call out for help or reach the phone, he heard the familiar voice of Sara on the other end. His shaking body froze as he listened to her voice.

"...Michael are you there?...If you're getting this please pick up." There was a long pause and then the line went dead.

Michael's shivering body slouched forward again, increasing the strain on his arms. His raw wrists had already gone numb from his struggling earlier and were still securely fastened to the fence behind him. His eyes once again came to rest upon the horrifying dead eyes of the man in front of him as the puddle he shifted his left foot inward to prevent the puddle of blood from connecting with it.

_Help me Sara._

Author's Note: First things first, thank you thank you thank you so much to everyone who left lovely reviews, it touched me very much that people actually liked my first chapter. Secondly, I want to apologise for the length of time it took me to post the next chapter. I wrote this chapter shortly after the first, but never felt it was quite good enough to post. (Being the angst junkie that I am I wanted to get it right). Anyway I became busy with school, and drifted from my writing until I forgot about the story. Then Sara's death on Prison Break really shattered the fandom for me, and I no longer found myself interested. With the recent news that she will be back next season, it makes me hopeful that the show will get back on track. (MiSa is the heart of PB!) Anywho, today I decided to take another look at chapter two, so I dug up the file, tweaked it a bit, and posted. I hope you liked it and again, I'm very sorry about the horrible wait if any of my previous readers are still here. To be honest, I'm not totally sure whether or not I will continue from here. Again I extend my hugest thanks to anyone who has read and/or reviewed, your support means the world! xoxoxox


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